


These Are The Situations You Not-So-Subconsciously Seek Out

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Series: Dirk/Jake/BGD [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aftercare, Altered Mental States, Anal Sex, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex Toys, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 11:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11440401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: There's a door at the back of the workshop they never talk about.Obviously, the ghost knows about it anyway.





	These Are The Situations You Not-So-Subconsciously Seek Out

**Author's Note:**

> The situation here between Dirk, Jake and Brain Ghost Dirk might not make much sense unless you've read my first story about them, [Ghosts: Not Only Real, But Probably Stealing Your Boyfriend Right Now.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10902909/chapters/24238656) The basic premise is that as Jake's hope powers strengthen post-canon, BGD becomes more real by proxy. This takes place after the events in that!

There's a door at the back of the workshop they never talk about. It's small, unassuming, and sits on hinges that squeal absurdly loud when it's opened, because they're hella rusted. Intentionally. It's heavier than it looks. Really takes some effort to get open. And if anyone ever put in the effort to do so, all they'd see on the other side is a storage room -- shelves and shelves of bullshit. Parts and tools, heavy crates and phosphorescent bottles. The odd discarded chunk of gently glowing uranium ore. Enough to warrant a curious look around, and not much else. 

But there's a trick. Jake's idea, actually. You've gotta arrange the bottles a specific way, because the switches beneath only trigger at a precise pressure. The mechanism only unlatches for a few minutes. The false wall in the back loosens up. Slides away. Reveals the stairs down.

This is the _real_ workshop, and no one can _ever know._

So when Jake decides he wants to invite the ghost, Dirk's initial reaction is pure, unfiltered panic. That shit is private. The stuff they do down there is personal. Secret. Jake patiently points out that Brain Ghost Dirk already knows about it, thanks to having literally all the knowledge that Jake has at any given time. They argue about it. Jake lets it drop.

But Brain Ghost Dirk, or BGD, or sometimes just _the ghost_ , is like an inexorable ocean eroding the shore of his better sense. He can't stop thinking about it. Eventually, like always, he changes his mind. Reluctantly, but definitively. 

And now this is the situation he finds himself in. 

His breathing is heavy in his own ears. He's blindfolded, but it doesn't matter - his eyes are shut tight, so bright spots are dancing behind his eyelids. He's naked, exposed, the concrete floor cold under his feet. It's hard to breathe, thanks to being bent over a fucking bar, or something, and his sense of time is completely boned, so he has no idea how long he's actually been standing here. Long enough that he's hyper aware of every sound, every heavy footstep, every unintelligible whisper. 

The bar he's bent over is unrelenting metal wrapped in a thin coat of something that can't reasonably be called padding. It's digging into him just below the ribs -- uncomfortable, but not yet unbearable. His shoulders are in worse shape, straining in their sockets, because his wrists are secured together and bound tightly in rough, chafing rope fastened to the wall on one end and pulled as tight as it can be without damaging him. He's still standing on his own two feet, but even as he considers this he feels strong hands grip his inner thighs, unceremoniously spreading him, pushing the bar deeper into his sternum. He grunts, and the noise earns his bare ass a quick but meaningful slap. He swallows down a yelp. That shit is going to leave a mark. 

There's an ominous sound, metal sliding on metal, and Dirk realizes what he's hearing about half a second before Jake slides a cuff around his thigh. These don't have near enough padding, either. Jake yanks a strap and the thing tightens around him, digging into his skin. Another metal sound, a ratcheting gears-moving kind of noise, and a _snap pop click_ as he locks the length of the bar. A second cuff, this around the opposite leg, and Jake forces it higher to sit in parallel with the first, which of course forces his legs further apart. Nice. He's going to suffocate, probably. Bent over a bar with his ass in the air, quivering with anticipation. Truly mythical. 

A second set of footsteps, lighter, round about the scene and stop in front of him. Bare feet, Dirk thinks. Softer than Jake's boots. The soft sound of clothing shifting, a soft _thump_ as something hits the floor. Dirk opens his eyes. The blindfold does its job -- he can't see shit. A sudden and deliberate exhalation of warm air dances over his stomach, and his responsive shiver painfully tests his range of motion. For a long minute, he thinks that's all he's going to get, and then soft fingertips flutter over his ribs, tracing the bony ridges. 

Jake makes a warning sound. The fingertips drop, and he hears his own voice laugh in this warm, quiet way, directly under the bar. His voice, but not his laugh. Dirk would never let himself sound that fucking genuine, but the ghost has never really had a well developed sense of shame. 

"None of that," Jake snaps, and Dirk can hear BGD shuffle again, right under the bar. 

"If I'm not allowed to touch him," BGD says in a voice that sounds like Dirk's but speaks like Jake at his most devious, "how do you expect me to do my job?" 

"You can touch him exactly as much as you absolutely need to," Jake says, like he's making some kind of magnanimous proclamation. Dirk shifts over the bar, trying not to think about how fucking funny it is. If he laughs, Jake is going to kill him. Maybe literally. Probably not on purpose. 

BGD snickers softly, so softly Dirk doubts that anyone but the two of them can even hear it. 

Then Dirk nearly dislocates his own shoulders, because BGD grabs ahold of his flaccid dick, lifting it and sliding something cold and metallic around his length. It has this ridged, bumpy texture, and settles snug but not exactly comfortable around the base of him. His balls are pressed against something else down there, another part of this thing, and before he has much time to really ponder the meaning of this sensation BGD is already taking care of it, dexterous fingers easing first one and then the other through what feels like another ring attached to the one around his cock. Dirk grunts a question, and Jake growls another warning. BGD gives his leg a single illicit pat, and then there's the whisper-quiet sound of him shuffling off and away. 

All right. 

It's not exactly uncomfortable, at least not right now. He shuts his eyes again and goes back to breathing. 

"What if our definitions of 'need' end up being different?" BGD's voice is a little thick, a fact which Dirk picks out easily because it's his damn voice, too. "What then, Jake?" 

Jake just scoffs. "We all know that's damn well impossible," he says. Dirk feels a hot little thread of irritation start winding around itself in his brain. He's ready, he's been ready, trussed up and bent over and held open and anticipating, and Jake is just standing off somewhere bantering with the damn ghost? _Fuck._ But footfalls temporarily gag his self pity, heavy and unmistakably Jake, coming nearer. Dirk lifts his head. His upper back pulses a dull, tired warning. His skin flushes hot. "We've both got a pretty darn clear idea of what I want you to do, I'd say." He's standing right behind him. "God, just look at him. What a sight, eh? That's right, come here. I never said you couldn't look, that'd just be downright cruel and unusual of me." 

"Your generosity is duly noted," BGD says, with perfect solemnity. The ropes creak as Dirk pulls against them. The knots dig painfully into his wrists. His nostrils flare, but he just manages to keep himself from vocalizing his frustration. 

"He looks good, right?" Jake seems genuinely eager to hear confirmation on this, and Dirk knows from months of cohabitation -- and, he thinks, co-dating, sort of -- that Jake really does crave BGD's approval in a lot of things. Which is hilarious because BGD kind of _is_ Jake, in a way? Only Jake could find a way to make self esteem something so... external. 

"He looks good," BGD agrees, still in that same solemn tone. 

"Do you want him?" Jake asks, and now he's the one teasing. Dirk's brain skips like a scratched record. _Wait_ , he thinks, but he keeps the thought quiet. 

"God, like nothing else." BGD's voice is soft and intense and sincere, and Dirk shakes his head. _Jake_ is supposed to be the one fucking him, here. Those are the rules. Jake can fuck him, Jake can fuck the ghost, Jake can do whatever the sweet fuck he wants, fine, but _Dirk_ has never -- doesn't _want_ \-- does he? If he's so sure he doesn't, why doesn't he want to think about it?

"Now, hold on," Jake says, and Dirk stills, panting heavily. Heavy footsteps around him. Fingers under his chin. Jake's hands are rougher than the ghost's, his fingers thicker, his handling less reverent. Jake pulls Dirk's head up, heedless of the hot protest of the muscles all down Dirk's back. "You don't want it?" Jake asks. He doesn't sound disappointed. Just... curious. Still, this hot panic fills him, because absolutely no part of him wants to disappoint Jake English. Isn't that how he gets into these situations in the first place? He hesitates, blinking up at the Jake-shadow-outline barely visible through the blindfold. "Tell me," Jake orders. Dirk swallows, mouth suddenly dry, trying to work up enough saliva to speak. 

"Whatever you want," he says, voice rasping. Jake grips his chin tighter, and though he can't see it, Dirk can feel the weight of his stare. 

"Tell him what you want," Jake says. "Tell him the whys and the whatsits, go on." For a second Dirk's brain shorts out -- is he talking to him? What is he supposed to say? What is he supposed to be asking for, exactly? But then BGD sucks in a breath and Dirk realizes he wasn't being addressed, after all.

"Hah," BGD starts, breathless. "Tell him I want to fuck him, you mean." 

"That's right," Jake says. Dirk wonders desperately whether or not Jake is still looking at him, or if he's looking at the ghost. He selfishly hopes it's him, even like this. Maybe even especially like this, all panting and pathetic. 

"Well. Yeah, I want to fuck you." Dirk flinches at not just the words, but the tonal shift and the accompanying realization that he's being addressed directly. "Have for awhile. Watching is good, don't get me wrong, but fuck, man. What am I supposed to think? You're gorgeous. You're so fucking responsive to every damn thing, you think I don't notice that? I love how into it you get. I think all the time what it'd be like to --" 

" _Stop_ ," Dirk croaks out, struggling pointlessly to shake his head, to pull his face out of Jake's unrelenting grip. _Don't you think that's a little narcissistic?_ He only just barely avoids laughing, which is good, because it probably would have made him sound insane. 

"Keep going," Jake insists. 

"Fucking -- no! Don't." The worst part is that it's actually turning him on, plain as fucking anything, everyone can see it. The rings around him are tightening by the damn second, so what does that mean? 

"Exactly who is it that's in charge here, again? Answer me that, chum." 

"Jake--" 

"--Exactly. Is that your name, now? Huh? You go and change your name on me behind my back or some such?" 

"God damn it," Dirk mutters. Jake drops his chin and grabs a handful of his hair, instead, pulling his head up and back. Dirk groans. The truth is, he knows what it means. There's something so fucking incredible about Jake English seeing him so stripped down and defenseless with all of his wants and needs and most embarrassing desires made clear, and just... accepting it. Liking it. Encouraging -- _delighting_ in it. 

"Keep going," Jake repeats. 

"I think about how hot you'd be, all done up like this. I think about the challenge, you know? Making you like it from me just as much as you like it from him. Winding you up good and tight until you give in and you're moving with me, begging for me. I think about Jake watching us and watching that and _fuck_ , Dirk, do you know how hot that'd be? How hot we'd be, together? This is probably kind of obvious, now, but, uh. I think about it a whole fucking lot, actually."

"Me too," Jake says, as though hearing that doesn't strip everything else away as efficiently as anything. "But you don't have to," he adds. Dirk almost laughs. Doesn't he, though? What the fuck else matters right now except for what Jake English wants? Fucking nothing. "We don't have to decide right away, do we?" Jake lets go of his hair. He steps back. "We've still got a decent bit of work ahead of us, here." He drags his fingers over the hyperextended curve of Dirk's back as he retreats around the scene, and Dirk can't help it; he lets out this embarrassing practically involuntary moan, shoulders shaking. The rope creaks. His wrists burn. 

Jake settles behind him, palms resting lightly on Dirk's hips, and presses a wet kiss into the small of his back. Dirk makes another desperate, embarrassing sound. Jake responds by kissing down his spine, a sensation so intense Dirk practically vibrates with it. His hips move, wanting more, and Jake chuckles against his skin. His breath is hot. He slides one palm up Dirk's inner thigh, and Dirk lets out a messy exhalation when his fingers brush lightly over the rings around his cock. Like he's checking up on them, dispassionate engineer style. His cock swells to full attention anyway, ever eager to please, and Jake lets out this appreciative little sigh and pumps down Dirk's length once, twice. Dirk's hips stutter back, twitch forward, seeking relief he hasn't earned, that he knows Jake is nowhere near ready to provide. 

"How's that feel?" Jake asks, and Dirk grinds out a harsh, hoarse little laugh. 

"It's my dick and your attention, what the fuck do you think, English?" 

"Yes, but obviously I'm talking about the device, Dirk, pay attention." The smirk in his voice is excruciating. "We want it tight, but not too tight, you understand?" 

"It's fine," Dirk says, not because he's sure of that, it's feeling pretty god damn tight down there, but because the sooner they can get past the engineering, the sooner they can get to fucking him incoherent, instead. "It's good, it's fantastic, whatever the fuck it is, it's --" 

"It's going to make you last a long friggin' time," Jake says, and Dirk thinks two things simultaneously: _Thank god something will_ and _Is that usually a fucking problem?_ "Which is good," Jake goes on, heedless, "Because no matter who's going to be doing what to who tonight, Dirk, I could just look at you all out like this for -- well, for forever."

"Yeah," BGD says, following up this observation with a breathy exhalation. Dirk says nothing, but his heart goes straight up arrhythmic. He's probably going to die. 

He has roughly five seconds to ponder this inevitability, and then Jake -- he think it's still Jake -- is spreading his ass with his thumbs and kissing right down past his tailbone and into the crease. Dirk's eyes fly wide open, but of course he still can't see anything. There's a rustle of movement Dirk attributes to BGD, but he can't pinpoint what he's doing, and then spatial awareness stops being a thing because Jake's tongue is running experimentally over his asshole. Shit. _Fuck._ He makes a muffled sound and arches over the bruising pressure of the bar, every muscle painfully tense. Jake makes a chastising sound, but he doesn't stop. Instead, his slow, flat-tongued ministrations pick up speed, flicking rhythmically over the tight, sensitive ring. Dirk retains just enough cognitive function to process the fact that the noises he's making while Jake ruins him this way are extremely undignified. 

"Come on," he hears himself say. His legs are shaking. "Come on, fuck, Jake, come _on._ " He knows what he's begging for. So does Jake, but instead of acknowledging this, he lifts his face away from Dirk's ass and -- honest to god -- just whistles. Dirk jumps at the sound, which wrenches his aching shoulders again, and Jake laughs.

"Easy there," he teases. He's near enough still that the breath behind his words becomes a tactile sort of pleasant torture. Dirk groans. 

"Fucking easy yourself," he pants. 

"Interesting idea! But why would I do anything to myself when I could be doing it to you, instead?" He sounds so god damn cheerful. Dirk bites the inside of his cheek. Don't fucking laugh. Fuck, just -- 

"Do _something,_ " Dirk practically whines, and Jake responds by biting the helpless expanse of his left ass cheek. Dirk yanks away -- mostly unsuccessfully -- and Jake laughs again, running his thumb over the lingering bite marks. "God damn it," Dirk mutters, trembling in place. 

"That's what you get for being vague," Jake says, and before Dirk can respond, he goes back to pressing his tongue up against his opening, circling the tight ring of muscle there once, twice, and then in, forcing his way past the brief resistance. Dirk's moan at this point is entirely involuntary, and followed by a gasp as gentle hands reach out of nowhere to brush errant strands of sweaty hair out of his face. _Fuck._ How long has BGD even been standing there? Jake's tongue is buried halfway in his trussed up ass and the ghost is stroking his face like this is something other than debauched, like this is something tender. He nearly chokes on his own spit. 

"Would you believe," BGD says, speaking softly in his ear, "We had to flip a coin for that?" 

Dirk laughs, except it mostly just comes out as a breathless series of half-moaned gasps. Jake's mouth closes over him, his tongue sliding out, in, out, occasionally circling around the ring before pressing back inside. It's incredible. And the ghost wants to talk. "Lucky you, then," Dirk manages, eyes closed, voice tight. "Dodged that bullet," he says, followed immediately by a soft _fuck_ as Jake wriggles his tongue in deep. 

"Ha," BGD snorts. He kisses Dirk's temple, right over the tight press of the blindfold. "Jake won the toss, idiot. Between you and me, I think he cheated." 

"Fuck off," Dirk mutters, disbelieving, and then he winces immediately at the way it comes out -- he didn't mean it quite like -- 

"It's true," BGD says, sounding completely unbothered. His fingers work through Dirk's hair. Jake is making appreciative noises while he works, now. BGD traces his fingertips lightly over Dirk's straining shoulders, up his shaking arms, making little speculative _hmm_ noises as he goes. Dirk hangs his head and focuses on breathing while his brain works on liquefying and then evaporating out of his skull in a cloud of undeserved bliss. The building in his middle is different -- slower, less urgent, but more intense. "I think he's ready for more," BGD says, and Dirk barely hears him, lost in the sound of the blood pounding in his own ears. Jake pulls away, but before Dirk can muster even a feeble protest, he's adding a finger and then two to what he's doing down there, and fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._ He's mumbling something, and he's honestly not sure what. Probably begging for more. That sounds like him. Fuck, it feels good. 

Jake's fingers curl inside him, reaching, seeking, and when they find the spot they're after in there Dirk makes an indecent sound, straining weakly against his bonds. Jake's fingers are thick, but they're not as long as Dirk's, and the thought flutters across his mind before he can stop it -- _what would it feel like if the ghost_ \-- and he shakes his head, god damn it, _fuck._ Jake is good at this. Jake is perfect. He moans louder, like volume can make up for imagined infidelity. Only, it's not really, because the ghost isn't... _is..._

Jake pulls his mouth off him, but his fingers keep moving -- not even thrusting, just... moving. It's exquisite. His dick is straining against the equipment fastened around him. "Christ," Jake says, and he sounds breathless, too. "What's a guy got to do here to get you to relax a tad, Strider? You're all done up like a friggin' tightwalk!" 

He doesn't sound disappointed, but Dirk still flinches, mind wheeling with the need to be right for him, for whatever he wants. He can't make his body understand, hell, his mind only barely gets what he's talking about. He isn't sure he remembers what relax means. A little thread of actual panic -- what the fuck? -- bubbles up through him, but before that can manifest in any gruesomely humiliating ways, BGD makes this little soothing sound in his ear, pressing his palms to either side of Dirk's face. Any other time, Dirk is sure he would find it patronizing, but right now he leans into it, sucking in a breath. BGD gives one of his earlobes a teasing little pinch and then leans in, pressing their lips together. Somewhere, Jake makes an appreciative sound. Dirk parts his lips first, and BGD takes full advantage of the invitation. His kissing is always wet and enthusiastic. Dirk is just glad the blindfold prevents him from even having the option to open his eyes for this. 

BGD pulls back, but his hands are still warm on Dirk's face, thumbs sliding down either side of his jaw. "It's all right," he says. "I can just watch. Shit, it's my pleasure, man. Really." It takes Dirk far too long to understand what he's saying, and by extension, the assumption at the bedrock of it. When he does, he feels heat immediately climb up his neck, over his face. He shakes his head. 

"That's not," he starts. BGD lets his hands drop, and Dirk makes a little bereft noise before he can stop himself. Jake pulls away, too, and for a horrible second he's just half-hanging, half-standing there, alone. "That's not the problem. I mean -- there's not a problem at all. I mean," 

"Hush," Jake says, and Dirk clenches his jaw. Jake slides his palm over the curve of Dirk's ass and rests it lightly on one sharp hipbone. "Did you like that, then?" 

" _Yes,_ " Dirk says. 

Jake makes a pleased little humming sound, and reaches one hand down between Dirk's legs, examining his handiwork. Dirk grunts softly, twitching his hips as much as he can to encourage the contact. Jake grips him lightly, sliding over him, spreading the moisture gathered at the tip over his length. Dirk's hips sway with his touch, eyes fluttering shut behind the blindfold.

"How close are you, there?" Jake demands, and Dirk makes a noncommittal sound. _No idea._ Jake's fingers still, and Dirk groans a protest, pressing his ass back to bump against Jake's leg. "Give me an idea, now, did I say you could get lazy?" The outrage in his voice is fake as hell. Nice try, English. Dirk licks his lips. 

"Still got awhile," he says, partly because he thinks it's true, and partly because he thinks it's what Jake wants to hear. Jake rewards him with a tight grip and a few more satisfying strokes. Dirk realizes in a rush of tangled emotion that he wishes -- of all things -- that he could see the ghost. Where did he go? Is he upset? Does he think Dirk doesn't want... doesn't want what. Him? Does he? _Does_ he want him? 

"Dirk," Jake says, softly. 

"I _know_ ," Dirk snaps, panting. "I know. I'm not, I mean, _fuck._ That's good, you're good. But, where did he go? Is he still--?" 

"Wh -- Brain Ghost Dirk?" Jake sounds surprised. His grip loosens. 

"I'm right here, man," the ghost says, and if Jake sounds surprised, BGD sounds utterly mystified. "What's up? Or. I mean, actually. Imagine I said something less lame and more super seductive, just then." Jake snorts. Dirk can hear the self deprecating smile behind the words. He shakes his head. 

"Cool," Dirk says. Takes a breath. "I want you fuck me," he adds, fast and firmly, before he can lose his nerve. He does want it, he thinks. Jake wants it, for sure. And ... shit. Fuck, why not? They've done just about every other god damn thing you can fucking do. He's looked down into his own wide orange eyes right in the heat of countless embarrassing orgasms, by now, how is this worse? He can't even see this particular thing go down, not really. 

And... and. And, he can't deny the way his cock throbs dangerously at the thought of this other guy wanting him this way. Not to mention the idea of Jake watching someone else do this to him. He's seen BGD wreck Jake more than a few times, already -- so let's see how he likes it for once, Dirk thinks with this eager almost-viciousness that he immediately regrets.

"Shit," BGD breathes out, while simultaneously, Jake makes a surprised grunting sound. "You're sure?" 

"Yeah," Dirk says. "Fuck me. Come on. _Someone_ fuck me, Jesus, what do I have to do?" 

"Nothing," BGD says. There's a shuffling sound, cloth over skin. New hands on his hips. Long fingers. Dirk swallows. "I realize you can't see yourself right now, but please believe me when I say, holy shit." 

Dirk scoffs, shifting restlessly against the bar, practically squirming. Anticipatory heat pulses through him, pooling almost languidly behind his balls. He'd close his legs if he could, just for the chance at some friction, but the bar between his legs isn't going anywhere any time soon, so he just stands there, bent over and all pathetically accessible instead. 

"This is okay?" BGD says, and Dirk almost lets himself get irritated until he realizes the ghost isn't talking to him.

"God, are you joking?" Jake says, and Dirk's stomach flutters with two parts excitement and one part trepidation -- he'd give almost anything to have seen the look on Jake's face just then. "Have at it, by all means. Unless you've forgotten how it goes?" There's a flesh-on-flesh sound Dirk can't quite parse. Jake laughs. BGD's fingers tighten on Dirk's hips, and then pull him back so that the full length of BGD's cock can press comfortably into the crease of his ass. Dirk shivers. Heat rolls through him like summer thunder. 

"I definitely know how it goes," BGD says. "Give me that." He's talking to Jake, again. Dirk rolls his ass against him, and BGD laughs softly, moving with him. "Hold on." Wet sounds. Long, slick fingers. Dirk squeezes his eyes shut while the ghost slides his hands between them and works him open, sighing little sounds of approval. "God," he whispers. "You're amazing." 

"Shut up," Dirk grunts at him, rocking his ass back against his efforts. He hears Jake snort off to the side.

"Just fucking incredible," the ghost goes on instead, spreading him, stretching him. There's sweat trickling down Dirk's face, and he blinks furiously behind the blindfold. Shakes his head. The fingers in him withdraw, and BGD leans over him, wraps his arms around Dirk's middle, and kisses along the ridges of his spine. 

"God damn it," Dirk pants.

"Shush," Jake warns him. 

"Is he gonna fuck me, or not?" 

"I am, actually," BGD says. And then he's positioning himself, pressing in, one hand on the small of Dirk's back, the other guiding. Dirk sucks in a noisy breath, and nearby, he hears the gratifying sound of Jake doing the same. BGD isn't rough, exactly, but he doesn't hesitate. Certainly doesn't take it slow. Dirk makes an embarrassing sound as BGD fills him, straining against the ropes. Fuck, but he loves that feeling. BGD doesn't stretch him as much as Jake does, not nearly. There's no anxious thrill that maybe this time it'll be too much. But, fuck, he goes _deep._ "Fuck," BGD swears over him, voice breathy, unsteady. "Oh, fuck, Dirk, _Dirk..._ "

"So," Jake says, and Dirk's chin jerks up -- he's closer than he thought. Practically crooning in his ear. "How is it?" 

"Fuck," Dirk gasps. BGD slides his hands up Dirk's sides, holding him tight, moaning his name as he pulls back and thrusts again, driving Dirk into the bar. "It's good, fuck, really good." He's kind of babbling. He doesn't care. The heat and pressure building deep in his gut are getting intense, now, almost alarming. "Fuck, come on," Dirk pants over the bar, doing his best to move with him. His legs are shaking. If they give out they're gonna have problems, the way this arrangement's done up. "Come on, come _on_." 

"You've got to go harder, he means," Jake clarifies, and Dirk can just picture his face, his smug grin, his electric green eyes drinking it all in, and fuck, oh fuck. This imagined image burns itself in behind his eyelids and his body reacts to the fantasy. He groans, loud and untethered, thoughts skipping frantically between the simple, primal pleasure of being fucked and the more cerebral pleasure of imagining Jake English getting off to the sight of it. 

Obediently, BGD quickens his pace, gasping out breathy curses between the hard snaps of his hips. Dirk has heard him like this before, but they've always had Jake between them them, always had the sound of Jake's pleasure mingling with theirs. "That's it," he says now, and Dirk can hear his breathing, hear how fast it is, how heavy, how breathless his voice is. It adds to the image in his mind and he moans, body shaking with effort. The ropes are straight up ruining his wrists, but he barely feels it. "That's right, you've got him, now," Jake goes on, and the words are encouraging, but his voice is soft, strangely reflective. 

"Hard enough for you?" BGD pants, sliding his hands over Dirk's hips, holding him in a bruising grip as he pulls out -- all of him, god, he's so -- and drives back in, in, _in._ Dirk makes an utterly incoherent sound. "Dirk?" He can't think. "Is it?" His brain recognizes that he's being addressed, and also, doesn't give a fuck. He makes another pathetic, wordless noise. BGD slows his pace. 

"Fuck, don't," Dirk gasps, frantically. His dick throbs with unfulfilled need. The build up there is fucking untenable. "Don't fucking stop, what are you --" 

BGD drives his hips forward, and the rest of whatever words he'd had lined up melt out of him in formless fashion. He can still hear Jake's breathing, fast and heavy. "Like this?" BGD prompts him. 

" _Yes,_ " Dirk groans. "Yes, _yes,_ fuck, like that, come on, keep -- come _on!_!" 

"It's good?" 

"It's so _fucking_ good --" 

"All right," BGD says, and Dirk feels him straighten up, feels the angle shift, the sensation of it change, and he punctuates this weirdly perfunctory statement by slapping Dirk's ass, hard, hard enough that Dirk inhales sharply and hears Jake do the same close by. "I think he's ready." 

"Right," Jake breathes, and there's a series of incomprehensible sounds as he fiddles with something, a soft curse, and normally Dirk is sure he would have puzzled out the meaning of it all easily but the ghost is still fucking him hard enough that the bar is rocking up against the painful bruised morass of his middle with each thrust. Any effort to lessen the breathtaking discomfort in that regard results in bright red burning spots of pain through his shoulders and down his back, not to mention the burning ring around his wrists -- this shit all adds up, adds up and mixes in with the pleasure until it's impossible to tell them apart. 

So when Jake hits some kind of activator and the tight rings around his cock start to _vibrate_ , it damn nearly kills him. He jerks back hard enough that he's not sure he didn't dislocate something -- the ropes catch with an audible _snap_ \-- and the chemicals that have been slowly drowning his brain in blissful euphoria flood in and wash away coherent thought. His vision fades from black behind the blindfold to grey and streaked with silver starbursts, and he's very glad he can't process audio for the moment, because he can feel his vocal cords thrumming, though all he can really hear is a static rush. 

The pressure building low in his belly gives way, but the orgasm doesn't matter so much as the accompanying languidity this release gives him, the way the pleasure and pain crest and crash over him and leave him pleasantly numb in their wake. He feels like a spectator in his own body; he feels his legs give out, feels himself sag heavily against the bar, feels strong hands with thin fingers wrap around his hips and support him in ways his own muscles absolutely will not. It should be painful, but instead, there's just the sensation of heat wrapping around his overtaxed joints and trickling down his outstretched limbs. He's suspended there between the ropes and the hands for a moment that extends too long in his mind, like a fish eye lens held up to the concept of _sensation_ , and then the ropes go slack and he thinks he's on his knees, legs spread thanks to the tenacious grip of the separator still strapped snugly between his thighs. 

The blindfold comes off, and Dirk is aware enough to know that Jake English has the most gorgeous eyes anyone has ever had in this or any universe. 

"Should I stop?"

"Just go easy," Jake says, and Dirk wants to protest -- _fuck easy, just go_ \-- but his tongue has forgotten how to do anything so complex. At least until Jake leans in to kiss him, at which point it remembers, barely, how to reciprocate that. And the ghost does go easy, murmuring words that aren't meant to be parsed individually, one hand splayed out against the curve of Dirk's sweat-slick back, the other gripping the sharp bones of his hip tight enough that it would probably have hurt if he were capable of processing the sensation properly. But he isn't, and the overstimulation is just a pleasant intensity.

Eventually, the ghost shudders against him, pressing his chest to Dirk's back, slumping over him, his chin resting playfully on Dirk's shoulder. Jake's demanding kisses soften and shallow, and on some level Dirk is aware that he's a shivering, sweating mess kneeling helplessly between them, but shame is even farther off right now than wherever pain and pleasure have gotten off to, and the way the air vibrates around the sonorous thrum of Jake's eager encouragements is more compelling than possibly anything has ever been. The ghost is kissing his shoulders, he thinks. He tries and fails to lift his chin. Someone unlatches something, the pressure of the cuffs around his thighs disappears, he bar between his legs collapses, and Jake kisses him again. Then he stands, hooking his arms under Dirk's as he does, lifting him easily. 

He doesn't remember the trip back up the stairs, through the tower, back to the bedroom. He only vaguely recalls hearing them converse in low voices, curling up between them, fingers in his hair, sheets, blankets, pillows. By the time his cognitive gears start catching again, the strip of sky visible through the window has darkened into a black and purple bruise. He's laying on his stomach, and his breathing quickens as he sloughs back into himself. Long fingers are working into the muscles in his back, pressing into the knots and aches and pains that are going to suck tremendous ass, no doubt, come morning. 

"Where's Jake," Dirk asks, and the fingers slow and stop. 

"Bathroom," BGD explains. "He'll be back." A silence stretches between them. BGD is suddenly holding himself very still, and Dirk's fledgling awareness alerts him that the ghost probably interpreted that question badly. He feels simultaneously guilty and annoyed, wincing into the pillow. 

"Keep going," Dirk says. "Feels nice." 

"Oh." He sounds embarrassed, which evaporates Dirk's annoyance and is actually pretty hilarious, because of the two of them, Dirk is pretty sure the ghost isn't the one that should be feeling that way. The massage resumes, which is good, because Dirk can tell that come morning he is going to be wishing he were dead. 

Oh well. 

"I hope," the ghost starts, and then stops, trailing off with a frustrated little sound. "You know, it's tough, sometimes, untangling you -- the _real_ you -- from the echo of the you that turned into half of me. All that's still rattling around up here." 

"God damn," Dirk says. "I cannot fucking believe someone just actually managed to be worse at pillow talk than Jake." 

The ghost laughs. "Pillow talk," he repeats, rolling the word around like he's tasting every angle of it. "I guess so." 

For a few long seconds, they're quiet. Dirk breathes into the pillow and BGD presses his thumbs into the aching muscles around Dirk's back, shoulders, neck. Nearby, a toilet flushes. Dirk and BGD both snicker at this at the exact same time, and the latter's fingers still again, soft against his skin. 

"I hope I didn't just take anything from you that you weren't actually wanting to give," BGD says, finally, and Dirk's heart speeds up while he turns the question he knew was coming over in his mind in the quiet that follows it. Did he? "It's easier with Jake, because I _know._ But you're something else, and I'm not always sure..." 

"You didn't," Dirk says, finally. 

"Didn't what?" Jake's voice is cheerful and his tone curious, and the mattress creaks as he rejoins them, flopping himself onto it and scooting near enough to touch. "Also, holy shit! You're back! A warm welcome back to the land of thinking men, Strider. How was it?" 

Dirk just manages to muster the energy to flip over onto his back, and he files away the ghost's thoughtful expression before he can hide it. Jake, meanwhile, is grinning like a god damn maniac. Dirk snorts at him. 

"You might, like, warn a guy before you go plugging his dick into a live current, next time," he says, and Jake's eyes practically fucking twinkle. 

"Tish tosh," he says, waving a hand. "Don't be so dramatic. It runs off batteries, thank you. And you're welcome." Jake runs his eyes over Dirk's body, a little wrinkle forming between his brows. "God," he says. "You're a pretty mess, have I ever told you that?" 

"Once or twice," Dirk mumbles, shifting his eyes to stare at the ceiling while his skin flushes embarrassingly hot. "Uh, anyway. Yeah. Whatever that was... damn. Nice work." 

"Actually, I hardly did any work at all." Jake flops down onto his back and wiggles in closer, until their shoulders touch. "Next time, I plan to be a lot more involved in the _actual_ work. The overall _exertions._ The --" 

"I get it," Dirk says, covering his eyes with one hand. He feels Jake's hand slide over his and around his wrist, which actually stings a fucking lot, if he's being honest. Jake makes a thoughtful _hm_ sound, running his thumb lightly over the puffy red tracks left by the rope. "Brain Ghost --" he starts. 

"I got it," BGD interrupts, like he's read his mind. In a way, he probably kind of has. Dirk opens his eyes and sees the ghost toss a bottle over, and he has just enough time to be impressed at the way Jake catches it one handed and opens it with his teeth before Jake pulls his wrist closer and he's administering some kind of awkward, post-coital first aid. 

"You don't have to --" 

"Shut up," Jake says, but he sounds cheerful enough. Dirk presses his lips together. He should really be used to this by now, but it still feels absurd to let anyone else take care of him this way, especially in regards to injuries that are practically self inflicted. Jake is always thorough, though, seeing to his wrists and clucking his tongue at the dark bruise already spreading in dull line over his ribs. The ghost helps too, of course. Why not. No point in trying to tell him not to, either. 

By the time they're finished, Dirk is embarrassed to find that he's practically drifting off, again, though this time with more honest to god exhaustion than anything else. Jake settles down on his back into the pillows and pulls Dirk against him in this pleasingly possessive way. Dirk wants to tease him for taking advantage of his exhaustion, but he's afraid it'll come out sounding even one percent serious, so he keeps his mouth firmly shut and just lets himself be held. He'll never get tired of this. 

"You were really great tonight, Dirk," Jake yawns, giving him an affectionate squeeze. Dirk carefully swallows his heart out of his throat and back into his chest where it belongs, and shrugs against him. Jake scoffs at this obvious posturing, but he doesn't press him for more. Their breathing evens out together, and... and. He realizes with a jolt that he can't feel the ghost anywhere. He reaches back, sore shoulders protesting as he as fishes his arm around behind him. He feels BGD startle when his fingers brush against his elbow, down his arm and wrist. 

"Hey?" BGD whispers. The implicit question unravels into the darkness, and Dirk tangles their fingers together, holding tight. Jake shifts beside him and then lets out a soft but telling snore. Dirk gives BGD's hand a purposeful little tug. _Come on,_ he thinks, fiercely. _Don't you fucking make me say it._

Mercifully, he takes the hint, turning over onto his side and pressing in close enough to throw an arm around Dirk and Jake both. 

"You're still sure?" The ghost whispers, and there's something vulnerable and strange in his voice, something that would be easy to blame on the parts of him that are just Jake, but Dirk knows better than that. "You want this?" BGD asks, and Dirk can hear the real question underneath -- _You want me?_

"Yeah," Dirk says, and he thinks that BGD understands it's the answer to both, because he lets out this heavy breath and nods against him. 

"Cool," the ghost says, and Dirk rolls his eyes. Is that what he sounds like when he's playing shit off this way? Fuck. "I mean," BGD quickly amends, "I'm glad. I'm... really glad, Dirk. I worry, I guess, that the things I want are too much? Too fast? And maybe," 

"Holy shit," Dirk winces, cutting him off. "You're good, okay? We're good. Chill. Jesus." 

"Right." A pause. "Hey." 

"I swear to god, if you're about to drop some clingy _I love you both_ bullshit--" 

"Actually, I was just going to say that next time, I want to be able to see your face." 

He should really be beyond blushing, by this point. He really fucking should. But the slow heat crawling up his face proves otherwise. "Fuck off," he says, in a way he hopes is very definitive sounding. No way. 

"Also, just for the record, I definitely and deeply love you both--" 

" _Stop,_ " 

"--In the absolute clingiest way imaginable--" 

Dirk makes a wordless, frustrated sound, pressing his face into Jake's shoulder. Jake grumbles in his sleep, pulling him closer. Behind him, the ghost laughs softly into the sensitive skin at the back of his neck, and privately, somewhere so far down deep it's only barely not subconscious, Dirk thinks he might love them both, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr [@landofsomethingsomething](http://landofsomethingsomething.tumblr.com)!


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